Gorgeous, magical photos. Dreamworthy.

2014/01/16

Photographs by Elena Shumilova


Gorgeous surreal in-studio installations

2013/12/16

Jee Young Lee transformed her studio into dreams. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.


Steven Heighton: Ten year memoranda

2013/10/29

I’m slowly heaving through the gargantuan and sometimes Sisyphean task of emptying my email’s inbox. Among the little gems awaiting time to be read was an update from Another Lost Shark about this collection of poetic wisdom from Steven Heighton. I still haven’t read it, but maybe with it posted here, I’ll remember it without the pang of panic that comes from hundreds or thousands of waiting emails!


Winter Ginko

2013/08/14

A couple of weeks ago, I joined in with a Winter Ginko in the Brisbane City Botanic Gardens – one of the events associated with the 2013 Queensland Poetry Festival. Another Lost Shark has posted some of the results, and some more, and more… and I’ll be posting one or two more of my Haiku from that morning here.


Bukowski Actors vs. Stanislavski Poets

2013/08/13

As part of the Brisbane Fringe Festival, I’m joining the poets’ team in Bukowski Actors vs. Stanislavski Poets. Organiser Jef Carus describes it as “poetry meets improvised theatre meets story structure”, “a contrived metaphor delivery system” and “fun and mayhem!” And it is.

Sunday, 9 September 2013, 4:00pm

The Box, 29 Vulture St, West End

Tickets at door: $10 Concession $5

Facebook event page here

http://www.brisbanefringe.com/


The Debt Collector

2013/08/10

Old sleep, you’ve waited so long for me.
Old sleep, you smell like earth, and I
Awake with hair of grey.

Old sleep, even when I called to you,
You waited somewhere darker,
Measuring my breaths, as I
Measured the stones in my heart.

Old sleep, you drank an ocean dry.
Old sleep, you’re heavy with Autumn, and I
Have no other place to go.

mr oCean
March 2011


Letters

2013/08/10

(For those to whom I owe correspondance)

My sister, the words may slip
from our fingers, fall like coming Autumn’s
gold and russet rain to ground,
be swept far away on careless wind,
but, dear sister, we will find them.
See? They’ve even us left a trail.

mr oCean
August 2011


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